Rough Draft

The surface appears an unperplexed cool, but a tempest's churning beneath. Where day follows night, and night follows sorrow. Life's beginning to spin some way beyond control, it feels as if the thread hanging is beginning to thin by the day. There's really few, or maybe even zilch purposes in this place. I swear, or take my word for it, that there's absolutely no way I'm staying here once I get the first chance to leave this forsaken place. I want to fly, need to fly above and out my cage, my nest. A drag, it may seems, and the days crawl by. But one day in freedom's a thousand day better in a cold, bitter prison.

For now, I'm escaping reality. I'll build myself another world elsewhere, far away from the eyes of onlookers.

posted by cigarettelove @ 7:44 AM 0 Comments

Rain is a good cleansing agent.

It washes away dirt on the ground.
It make it clean.

It is our playground.
We jump in the puddles in our wellington boots, making big splash! sounds.

Get our clothes all wet, and a sound scolding as well.

It washes away stains.
Stains on our hands.

Our heart, our soul, our body.

Rain makes it a good time to sleep.
To snuggle in bed, and dream.

Rain is an emotion.

It is a shelter over pain and hurt.
Sadness, and grief.

Tears are disguised in the rain.

We jump about in the rain, we can have fun.
There's no tomorrow when it rains.

Rain is a wonderful feeling.

Even more so, when it rains,
In your heart.

posted by cigarettelove @ 5:19 AM 0 Comments

I probably should have closed down this space by now.

Oh well.
Better late than never.

posted by cigarettelove @ 5:08 AM 0 Comments